


Never Still: Assorted Farkas/Aril One-Shots

by KnightDawn



Series: Tales of Skyrim [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Farkas is afraid of spiders, Farkas is smitten, M/M, Vilkas KNOWS, actually everyone knows because Farkas is terrible at hiding it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:47:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22854964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KnightDawn/pseuds/KnightDawn
Summary: One of the first things Farkas had noticed about Aril was how the elf was always moving, never completely still. He could be frighteningly quiet when he wanted to be, though that wasn’t often - there was a reason his preferred profession was smithing and crafting, not ranging or hunting. Farkas liked to watch him work when he had time, see him pummel steel and iron into some of the more masterfully crafted pieces he’d seen, with a distinct flair that was unique to him.A fic collection featuring Farkas and Aril, the newest member of the companions.
Relationships: Male Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Farkas
Series: Tales of Skyrim [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1938988
Comments: 10
Kudos: 44





	1. Never Still

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Farkas can't stop admiring the newest member of the Companions.

One of the first things Farkas had noticed about Aril was how the elf was always moving, never completely still. He could be frighteningly quiet when he wanted to be, though that wasn’t often - there was a reason his preferred profession was smithing and crafting, not ranging or hunting. Farkas liked to watch him work when he had time, see him pummel steel and iron into some of the more masterfully crafted pieces he’d seen, with a distinct flair that was unique to him.

When Aril wasn’t at the forge, he was usually at an enchanting table, weaving complex spells. He’d tried to explain the process to Farkas once, when he’d sheepishly tried to explain away the reason he’d been watching as curiosity about the _art_ rather than his growing appreciation for the way _Aril_ looked while he was doing it. He could be so intense, when he was focusing on his craft, but he was all bubbly and excited when he was explaining it.

Farkas actually wished he’d been able to understand more of what Aril was saying, but most of the stuff that involved magic was beyond his comprehension. Still, it was nice just to hear Aril talk about something he enjoyed so much.

Aril even paced sometimes when he was reading, which Farkas found quite amusing. He’d wander up and down the lower halls of Jorrvaskr, dodging the other whelps and Tilma with uncanny ease. Clearly, this was second-nature to him. His own explanation for _that_ habit was something Farkas completely understood, though, and made everything else make so much sense.

“Oh, I can’t focus if I’m _not_ moving. If it annoys you, though…”

“No, it’s fine! I just… wondered,” Farkas said, laughing quietly as he crossed his arms, only to immediately feel like he should be rubbing his neck or fixing his hair instead. Oh, he _definitely_ understood that restless feeling. Almost made him want to try pacing while he read something, except he knew he’d have none of Aril’s practiced grace and was more likely to smash his face into a door.

“I used to walk into things a lot,” Aril confessed, grinning. Farkas supposed his train of thought was probably easy for someone as smart as Aril to guess. “I don’t really recommend it. It just… works for me.”

Farkas genuinely wondered how the elf had so much energy. Even he crashed a lot when he wasn’t working - but Aril was both late-to-bed and early-to-rise. Farkas joked to Vilkas once that he thought the elf might never sleep, but Vilkas had just given him a tired, knowing look.

All of that together, though, was why Farkas got so scared the night they were prowling Dustman’s Cairn together, for Aril’s test of honor. When the elf went down after being hit, he was so damn still Farkas was certain he was dead. He let his fury fuel the fight, then, tearing up the bastards with his claws and teeth -

Only to find Aril staring at him, wide-eyed, when he turned around - still not moving, but the glow of restoration magic in his hands confirmed he was alive. Farkas let the wolf-form go, reverting to his human self, but still struggled to find the right words to _explain._

“We can talk later,” Aril said, moving in closer - his palm still glowing white as he pressed his hand against a wound Farkas hadn’t even noticed on his own shoulder. “I think we need to deal with things here first - is that better?”

“Yeah,” Farkas said, trying to ignore the way the magic made his whole body feel warm and tingly for a few moments - at least, until Aril removed his hand. Together, they made short work of the rest of the Silver Hand and crept out of the dusty crypt. The first light of dawn was breaking on the eastern horizon, through the mountains… 

And for the first time since they’d met, Aril looked _exhausted._ He bumped into Farkas and stayed put. “Aril?” Farkas asked, but only got a soft groan in response. Farkas turned around quickly to look at him closer, but all the injuries he’d sustained looked like they’d been fixed.

“I’m fine,” Aril said, his words as carefully chosen as if he were drunk. “Just - tired. Restoration magic, it… it’s _draining._ I haven’t had to use it this much in a long while.”

“Could’ve told me that before you used any of it on me! Werewolves heal faster than… normal people.” Aril frowned slightly and let out a tired sigh, and Farkas felt guilt bubbling up again. 

“Okay. Fine. Let’s make camp so you can rest before we go back to Jorrvaskr.” It didn’t take long to set up a site and roll out some furs for Aril to rest on, but Farkas was surprised when Aril tugged him down to settle against him.

“You’re _warm,_ ” was the only explanation Aril gave, but… Farkas wasn’t about to complain. Not when it meant he got to watch the elf fidget slightly until he was comfortable, his nose twitching and crinkling until his face finally went slack as he fell asleep.

Farkas was not at all surprised to discover Aril wasn’t even still when he was sleeping, but his knees and elbows didn’t hurt. At least, not _much._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~Farkas is doomed.~~
> 
> I also did art of him and Aril recently, for anyone curious about what Aril looks like: [[link]](https://silvanils.tumblr.com/post/190921141165/i-wanted-to-give-aril-and-farkas-some-love-and)


	2. it had to be spiders...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aril learns something new about Farkas.

“The cave should be around here somewhere,” Aril said, glancing up from the note he’d hastily scribbled down when he and Farkas had agreed to go take care of a suspected vampire den in the area. _Northeast from Mixwater Mill. Follow the river. Can’t miss it. Creepy place._

Farkas was sniffing the air and scrunching up his nose, and a moment later Aril wanted to gag a little as the distinct smell of rotting flesh was carried to them by the afternoon breeze.

“Mammoth,” Farkas groaned. “Dead ahead. Been a few days, by the stench.”

Aril chuckled a bit at the pun, whether intentional or not, even as he briefly covered his nose with his free hand. _Gross._ He tucked the map away in one of his belt bags. Sure enough, as they made their way around the rocky outcropping, a mammoth carcass came into view. 

It was covered in spider’s silk and partially collapsed in on itself. Aril didn’t need a closer look to know it had been devoured by frostbite spiders and other scavengers - nor did he _want_ to take a closer look. He stayed as far away from the corpse as possible.

“Hm… well, whether there’s blood-suckers deeper in or not, there’s definitely a spider nest here. Their kills can look rather similar, especially after a few days…”

As he turned to look at Farkas, though, he noticed the nord had frozen up a few paces behind him. If he was in his wolf form, his tail would probably be tucked between his legs. “Farkas?”

“Uh… right. Listen, I… really don’t like spiders.” His cheeks had gone red as he glanced aside, not meeting Aril’s eyes. “Even the little ones creep me out. The big ones, though… damn.”

Aril raised his eyebrows in surprise and crossed his arms. “Really? You’re scared of spiders? I… had no idea, Farkas. You were fine with signing up to clear out a vampire den, but… not this?”

“I’m not proud of it, okay? Not like I can do anything about it, though. Every man has his weakness, and… this is one of mine.”

“Fair enough,” Aril said, realizing this was a sore spot for the other man. “Well, lucky for you, I know a trick for dealing with spiders if you’re not hoping to extract alchemical ingredients from them or their nest.”

“Oh?” Farkas perked up a bit. “A trick?”

Aril grinned and held out his left hand toward the entrance, summoning a burst of flame that he aimed directly into the cave. A loud explosion went off inside, followed by a bunch of hissing and spitting noises as tendrils of smoke billowed out of the cave’s mouth.

A single spider managed to emerge from the cave a few moments later, but Aril had readied his warhammer by then and rushed up to smash it’s face in with a mighty swing. Spider-guts went flying everywhere. Aril sheathed his weapon and turned to wink at Farkas with his blind eye, chuckling as that made the nord blush again - albeit for an entirely _different_ reason than before.

“See? All taken care of. Now, will you come with me to see if there are blood-suckers deeper in? I like to be thorough in my inspections.”

Farkas crossed his arms and let out a deep sigh, then uncrossed them as he walked up to stand beside Aril. “Fine. I’ll go with you - as long as you hold my hand while we’re in there.”

“Won’t that just make it harder for us to draw our weapons if there are any left…?” Aril asked, grinning as he let Farkas clasp his hand tight anyways. The nord’s palm was a little clammy, but he didn’t care.

“Shut up. We both have fast reflexes, and you’ve got your fancy magic. We’ll be fine - as long as you stay close to me.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll be right by your side the whole time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know in-game Farkas says he's only been scared of giant spiders since Dustman's Cairn, but... I think that's a lie. xD


	3. Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Farkas doesn't like it when Aril worries.

“Do you ever think about how lucky we are?” Aril asked one night — his fingers tracing one of the more nasty looking scars Farkas had on his chest. “Sometimes I see these and think of all the times I could have lost you before I even had a chance to know you.”

“You shouldn’t worry about that,” Farkas said, reaching out to ruffle Aril’s hair. “I’m here. You’re here. That’s all that matters.” 

That earned a little smile from Aril, which made his heart flutter. “I suppose you’re right, Farkas. That is all that matters. I’ll be here to patch up whatever wounds your beast blood doesn’t heal from now on.”

Farkas pouted, but before he could speak up to say that wasn’t what he’d meant, Aril was leaning in to follow his fingers with his lips, kissing each and every scar he found… and as heat rushed to his cheeks, Farkas decided against saying anything for a while.

He didn’t want Aril to stop…!

After, though, when Aril was curled up next to him, Farkas couldn’t help but brush the soft, silvery hair away from Aril’s cheek to get a better look at _his_ most prominent scar.

It spanned from his cheek to his temple, crossing over his left eye. He was a great healer, so it was odd that this wound hadn’t been fixed up before it scarred so badly. Unlike Farkas, he only had a few small scars, mostly things that were still healing.

Tracing the line with his thumb, Farkas frowned. Perhaps Aril had a point. They had both done so much, survived so much, to get to where they were now. He sighed and curled up around Aril, moving slowly so he wouldn’t disturb him.

He thought of all the times Vilkas or one of the other Companions had dragged him back from a battle he’d gone down in, all the times they’d patched him up or taken him to the temple of Kynareth for healing. He’d always had his brother and the others watching his back, since he’d been a little whelp who couldn’t even lift a sword properly.

He knew Aril had always been safe, because he’d always had family that looked after him, too. His sister and brother, and his parents… they’d always had his back. Neither of them had ever been alone. 

Maybe that _did_ make them lucky.

He felt Aril shove him gently, and heard him give a tired little laugh. “I got you thinking about it, didn’t I?”

“Bah,” Farkas grumbled. He could feel the elf smirk against his chest, though. He knew he was right. Too smart for his own good, that one.

“I love you, you silly wolf.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a story behind Aril's scar. I'll get around to telling it at some point.


	4. you make me weak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Farkas and Aril both have their weaknesses.

“Dunno how you can stand it,” Farkas said, standing a little ways back from the forge. It was hot, and Aril was sweating as he worked with the metal — one unexpected quirk of the beast blood was that it made everything hotter when the moons were high and bright, and they had risen early this evening. “You sure this can’t wait?”

“No, I can’t stop in the middle of this task,” Aril sighed. “It would ruin the finish.”

He could, however, pause for a moment to shrug his shirt off. The protective layer wasn’t worth it if the heat did him in. Plus, he got a little thrill from knowing Farkas would appreciate the look.

“Damn,” Farkas breathed, making Aril smirk to himself.

He quickly resumed the process of folding the metal. It was tough work, but the lovely swirls and waves it would give the finished blade would be worth it. Plus, with the moons up, it was easy for him to flood the heated metal with some mana. The cool glow from his hand was a stark contrast to the warm light of the forge.

“What’s that for?” Farkas asked. He did always love to hear Aril explain things, even if Aril wasn’t sure the details stuck.

“I find it helps with the enchanting process. I think exposing it to mana in this state lets it take more later. But that’s a secret to everybody,” Aril said, winking at him. “Don’t tell anyone.”

“Not a word,” Farkas promised.

By the time he was finished with the folding process, Aril was a weak, sweaty mess. He desperately wanted to go home so he could shuck off the rest of his clothes and take a nice, long, hot — 

His train of thought was interrupted by Farkas swooping in to pin him against the nearest bench, kissing him hard enough to make his knees want to buckle. One was followed by another, and Aril gripped the other man’s shirt as he returned every one, his fingers trembling from the effort.

“I’m a mess, Farkas,” he groaned. “Can’t this wait until I’ve had a bath?”

“No,” Farkas said. “I like it when you smell like this.”

“Like… sweat and hot iron?” Aril asked, incredulous. It was something his siblings had never appreciated, but the way Farkas was scooping him up into a fierce embrace was proof enough that Farkas was being honest. 

(Not that Farkas had ever lied to Aril about anything.)

“Yes,” Farkas breathed, kissing Aril again. This time, he was sure his knees would have given out if Farkas wasn’t holding him several inches off the ground. It was cute, in an incredibly frustrating sort of way.

“Alright,” Aril conceded. “The bath can wait.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (It's the same weakness, really.)


End file.
